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Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Musical Mimer!

The man at the front of the bus – the one that just got on?
– would like you to know that he plays all the instruments.

All of them!

Look at him up there, this rhythmically ticking Man About Town. Those headphones are not just for
show, you know. Those are serious
appliances encompassing his ears, the kind normally found adorning men behind
soundboards and in wood-paneled basements.

One can’t hear his music, of course, but from the looks of
it, he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.
And why not? Rocking in his seat,
his head thrashing with a metronomic intensity usually reserved for those found
in fatal proximity to an electrical outlet, he moves with ease from one
imaginary instrument to another.

The drums. One
suspected that he played the drums, and here it is. Clutching make-believe sticks, a drum part we
cannot hear is acted out before us. Bum-diddly-bum-diddly – SPLASH! An imaginary crash symbol rings out, fills
the air with the inaudible ring of metallic percussion.

Surely this man rocks without compare.

But wait! What’s
this? A guitar solo? It is almost too much! But there it is. His left hand on the pretend fret board, the
right holding an ethereal pick, this next part of whatever he is listening to consumes
him. Wheedly-wheedly-wheedly! The woman in the seat next to me, also
watching Rockstar #1, grins and motions with a jerk of her chin.

We smile at each other, toward the man up front, the man
with the rockingest playlist on the bus.

The next part involves a ghostly piano, his fingers running
along keys that only he sees. His hands
pound at the air in front of him, and one can’t help but be impressed with his
singular devotion to the miming of entire pieces.

The people across from him sigh, look out the window, look
at their hands, close their eyes.

And arriving at my stop, I am forced to de-bus before he
finishes.

It’s not often that we are witness to such a display of
musical love and lack of boundaries.

I found my favorite Yanni album CD and loaded into the player in my truck. I went downtown to the hardware store, and as I got out the van that plays the blaring music as it seLLs ice cream to children was playing a strange version of something that sounded like Yanni from that same CD, looping in about 12 seconds.

Shelly, ahh. The very reason I don't miss commuting. That's not to say, however, that there hasn't been unpleasantness on the bus. Last week we had a zealot at the back of the bus, preaching. Until the bus driver sent someone back... Not sure how/if I'm going to write that one!!

joeh, while I do have an array of imaginary people in my head, kept there for cases of boredom and/or departmental meetings, I admit I would never want to work from home. Or teleport via one of those sucking-tube things the Jetsons commute with.

That's just crazy.

Savannah, thank you. I love that. Hermit away, just don't forget that everyone is someone's weirdo: you may be depriving someone of their weirdo if you stay indoors too long. :-) Not to mention that I'm absolutely positive that there are people who see you and murmur to themselves, "who is that attractive woman?"

Joshua, for a chance to witness that, you hair-rocker you, I would pay for coffee.

I checked the internet and it appears that there is free over-the-air TV in Minneapolis. You may be able to get an antenna that even works indoors to pickup the broadcasts, as I you have an apartment, I think.

Pearl, this post prompts me to say what I should've before. Your skill as a flâneuse is right up there with Geo. Sand, Frances Trollope, Virgina Woolf and Agatha Christie in my estimation and provocative of equal interest. I usually just write "my compliments" but this one warranted something more specific.

Hey Pearl! You should have been here earlier. I've been playing Marillion's latest, SOUNDS THAT CAN'T BE MADE. The closer, SKY ABOVE THE RAIN drew out a veritable orchestra in me. And not a note or rhythm out of place, even the laconic drumming. A joy! Indigo x

I would have been very curious to know what song he was listening to. Since I drive solo in my car, I keep the windows rolled up and try to sing along with the radio. And when no one listens, I do fairly well. Apparently, the problem is not my singing, but other people listening. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I must admit to being that man, or just like him. I have done all that. I play a mean air drum in the car, using whatever is handy for drumsticks. I live the music no matter how it looks and I have fun!

I saw a guy sort of like that the other day-silently, but dramatically lip syncing to some rap tune while he gyrated down the sidewalk. He was obviously so enthralled with his own performance, I had to admire it too!

I rarely air guitar (since I play the bass - or like to pretend that I play it better than I do, at least - I don't find the need to exercise my fingers in an imaginative manner) but I do occasionally drum along to things, much to the consternation of my co-workers. I do it quite unconsciously, until I'm asked by them to please quit it before we need to kill you, Jim.